Paintball
by Evilida
Summary: House and Stacy Warner meet for the first time at a paintball tournament.  Mostly dialogue.


**Disclaimer:** House, Warner, Wilson, Cuddy and Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital are all the property of David Shore, et al. Not mine.

Ordinarily, Dr. Gregory House shunned the annual Doctors vs. Lawyers Charity Paintball Tournament. This year, he had an ulterior motive for attending. He wanted to humiliate one Elias Marshall, neurosurgeon, whom House regarded as a pompous ass. He intended to spell the word "ass" on Marshall's rear with paintballs.

House peered out from the low wall where he was hiding and spotted a tall, dark-haired woman taking cover behind a tree. She was wearing the yellow bandana that indicated she was on the lawyers' team. Unfortunately, she spotted House at the same time. Neither could move.

"We're in a standoff here," he called out.

"Keep your voice down. Do you want to draw enemy fire?"

"Oh, please, most of your teammates are heavy-footed pencil-pushers who couldn't hit the broad side of an aircraft carrier. I'd hear them coming and pick them off before they could fire a shot."

"Big talk," the woman said.

House replied by firing a paintball at the tree behind which she was hiding. It hit dead centre. She sent a paintball his way. It whizzed over the top of the wall where he was hiding, inches from his head.

"No fair. No head shots! This game isn't going to be any fun if we're both trapped here," House said. "I bet we can find some common ground and make peace."

"Keep talking."

"Have you met Elias Marshall? He's a tall guy with hair everywhere but the top of head."

"I've met him. "

"Then you know he's a pompous prick. Our common ground is that we both want to splatter him with paintballs. "

"He's on your side."

"He only thinks he's on my side. I'm on a totally separate side that he knows nothing about. Do you want to join me? It'll be more fun hunting Marshall than hiding behind a tree. I won't shoot you."

"Can I trust you?"

"Usually not. This time, absolutely."

"I'm thinking," she said.

"Think quickly," House said. "Crouching here in the wet leaves isn't particularly comfortable, you know."

"If we both step from our hiding places simultaneously, on a count of three..."

"Sounds good."

"One...two...three, "they chanted. Simultaneously both stepped out from cover, aimed their paintball guns and fired. They were both hit.

"You said I could trust you absolutely,"

"I lied."

-------------------

After the tournament ended, the contestants got together for a friendly drink. The final winner chose the location, a strip club called the Eight Ball. House knew the place. It was a pretty tame venue, the choice of generations of fresh-faced young college boys taking their first tentative walk on the wild side. A bored young woman in a cheap blonde wig swayed listlessly to loud music. The scars from her breast enhancement surgery were visible. The stripper's stage was brightly lit, but the rest of the room was gloomy. House scanned the tables. The brunette assassin walked up behind him.

"Looking for me?"she asked. She had to talk into his ear to be heard over the din.

"My murderer," House said. He pointed towards an empty booth, and they both headed in that direction, avoided partying paintballers.

"Yes, "she said, "but you can call me Stacey Warner. If you remember properly, I didn't make any promise not to shoot you."

House introduced himself. "I had a good excuse for shooting you though."

"Let's hear it."

"I wanted your yellow bandana as a disguise. I was on a mission and needed to go behind enemy lines."

"You should do what I do," Stacey said. She pulled a handful of cheap bandanas of various colours from the pocket of her coat. "I scouted out the location last week and got these."

"Clever AND criminal."

"I'm going to return them."

"I find such behaviour disgraceful in an officer of the court," said House, doing an excellent impersonation of Elias Marshall, lost on Stacy since she had only met Marshall once. "Who was your target?"

"That guy," she said, pointing to a red-faced man who appeared to have been able to consume a sizable quantity of alcohol in a very short time. He was stuffing dollar bills in the stripper's g-string.

"Is he loathsome?"

"He's my boss. So yes he's loathsome."

"Does it follow?"

"In my firm it does. As they say, the scum rises to the top," she said bitterly. "I put together a client proposal and he purposefully sabotaged it to make me look incompetent. I can't work with him any longer. "

"What kind of law do you practice?"

"Tort law," she said. "I'm a litigator."

A waitress came to take their orders. They both ordered beer. Stacy's attention was distracted when one of her teammates, a thin man with metal framed glasses, joined her boss in front of the stage. He was waving a handful of one-dollar bills. "That's Petersen," Stacy said. "He's such a suck-up. I know for a fact he's got a boyfriend and a Guatemalan daughter at home. I've met them! Who does he think he's fooling?"

"Have you done any medical malpractice work?"

"Some. Why? Do you need an attorney?"

"The hospital where I work does. I think you should apply. You can put my name down as a reference."

"You have no idea whether I'm good at my job," she said.

"Your deviousness at paintball is a pretty good indicator."

The waitress returned with their beers and a bowl of pretzels.

"So what do you do at the hospital?"

"I'm a diagnostician, but mostly I play computer games and watch General Hospital. Oh, and I annoy Wilson; that's the most important part of the job."

"Who's Wilson?"

"He is," said House, pointing to a handsome man at a crowded table on the other side of the room. "The one flirting shamelessly with the waitress. I bet he gets extra pretzels. Lisa Cuddy is sitting next to him. She's the one to see if you're interested in the hospital attorney job."

"I might be," said Stacy, "but I'm more interested in you at the moment."

"You should be. I'm a fascinating guy."

"This music is giving me a headache. Let's go someplace quieter."

"Good idea. Where would you like to go?"

"Let's go to my apartment," Stacy said.

"Okay," said House, putting down some money for the waitress. He followed her out the door.

They took Stacy's car. Her apartment was airy and spacious with a view of Carnegie Lake. Stacy put on some soft music and went to the refrigerator.

"Do you want something to drink? I have beer and white wine in the fridge. "

"Beer's fine," House said, following her into the kitchen.

"So, was this your first experience with paintball?"

"Yes, first and probably last," House confirmed.

"I go every year. One of our senior partners organizes it. Anyone who ever wants to make partner has to attend."

"If I decide to go to next year's event, we should get together ahead of time and strategize."

"Do you think that you'll decide to go?"

"Not very likely."

"We'll have to think of some other reason to get together then."

House put his beer on the counter and stepped towards Stacy. He reached toward her and she leaned forward. Their lips met. Their kiss was surprisingly gentle, but thoroughly satisfying. House drew her closer. Her hair was silky to the touch.

"Let's take this to the other room," Stacey said.

Stacy and House were both impulsive by nature. This wasn't the first time either one of them had had sex with someone they had only just met. House knew the period immediately afterward was the killer - that awkward pause while he calculated just how long to wait before he could dressed and leave. This time, he didn't want to leave.

"I meant it about the job," he said. "The hospital really does need an attorney."

"I'll think about it," Stacey said. "If I worked there, we could have lunch together every day."

"I'd like that," said House. "Once in a while, we'd have to invite Wilson, though. He's an excellent source of potato chips and French fries. His reflexes are lousy."


End file.
